


Tales of a Paleblood Moon

by windofbloom



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, RK1000 - Freeform, bloodborne au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-07-27 14:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16221428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windofbloom/pseuds/windofbloom
Summary: Trapped inside the Hunters Dream, condemned to die and come back until the last of the hideous beasts had been slaughtered during the sempiternal night; Connor found peace in those mismatched eyes looking at him with mercy, and maybe with something else.





	1. The hunter dog and the merciful crow

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome good reader! First, let me thank you for your interested, I hope you can enjoy the reading as much as I enjoyed the writing. However, before we get started, I will make clear a couple of things, I consider, are relevants to the following story.
> 
> —Different of the common adaptation method I do not write scene by scene equally. It Is not my type of process, I prefer to took the general plot and then develop it with my own ideas and conclusions, and also I try to keep the character as 'canon’ as possible; if you know or have played this game you’ll recognize names and places, and the most important events or the ones I found interesting to explore. Though if you’re waiting for a absolutely loyal adaptation of the lore, let me apologize now, this is not that type of story.
> 
> —If you don't know about the Bloodborne lore don't worry! I’ll explain during the chapters every concept you learn while playing, though keep in mind that due to the storytelling type in this game a good part of the explanation or reference is based on my own point of view or fan theories I consider possible, or just interesting. Also, I’ll do all this explication during the following story as part of it. As a normal story does. Conclusions, reference or ideas are based on my own understanding of the game, my actual playthrough and The Paleblood Hunt, an amazing analysis by Redgrave.
> 
> With that clear, let's start the hunting! _And let the good blood guide you._

 

  _«Paleblood to transcend the hunt»_

 

Tired and shaking Connor made his way through the sewers of Central Yharnam, the wild pig was a fierce, giant enemy which required him more time of what he would like to admit, but he won. In front of the reminders of the beast Connor took a deep breath to calm his nerves and the adrenaline all over his body; he stil could hear the creature’s deep, blood starved grunts as an nightmarish echo, above him were beast rumors, the voices of those who used to be humans and now lurked as mindless creatures for preys.

It was hunting night, the man called Kamski explained to him. An orange-colored moon dominated the sky as an evil sun. Every human who wouldn’t participate of the hunt locked themselves inside their houses, waiting, _praying_.

Connor wondered if he was different from the creatures he killed, or if he was just another beast with a fancy name. Not like his blood stained clothes could said something different, nor even the way his heavy breathing sounds behind the mask, as it was a growl. He sounded like a beast, like one of them and the thought made him shiver. A desperate cry broke out of his throat. He wasn't _a beast_ , _he wasn't_ like those... creatures.

He was a hunter. His mission was to hunt. Nothing less, nothing more. _'Focus’,_ he thought, gripped the ‘saw cleaver’ a mix of blade and chainsaw and the material felt more real than all the mess of blood and flesh of the past few hours _._ But, could he still consider himself a human? Wasn’t those he already killed humans too? They looked and act like monsters, however deep in his mind Connor could recognize their past humanity, their voices, their words. _‘Don’t think, keep moving’_. So he did, with cautious steps with all his senses vigilant to any sound or movement, Connor walked into the dark tunnel the wild pig guarded.

If he wanted to understand there was no time to lose, Daniel  (so far the only person inside that place pleased to speak) told him about the ‘Healing Church’ the source of all blood in the city, to know what it was or who they were he needed to find Cathedral Ward and with the bridge closed due to the hunt the only way was the sewers. The labyrinthine sewers, full of mutated rats, monstrosus crows and dangerous rotten corpses still moving, _alive_.

Connor felt goosebumps all over his body as the sticky sound of the corpses resounded, his legs got cramped, his arms felt heavier every second. Cold blood under the hunter attire made him felt disgusted more than the dirty water; was he deadly injured? Maybe yes, maybe not. To be sure Connor moved the mask he weared to his chin, drank a full blood vial feeling slightly better, three more hanged of his belt next to the pistol and the torch ready to be used if needed.

Connor stopped for a moment to see the blood bottle in his right hand. Yharnam was a city who got famous thanks to the _‘blood ministration’_ , he as an outsider barely knew the basics; it was a practice based on the treatment of any disease or wound with blood, blood from what or whom? Connor hummed, and kept walking. He left the empty bottle as a trail of his path into the sewers. He wasn’t going to find answers just looking at it. Though. The more he walked, the more he thought.

Part of him reminded terrified of the idea of drinking blood to cure himself, _terrified of dying_ but being alive again and again. If Yharnam was cursed, he was too. The other part wanted to understand, to learn; when he first arrived to the city he went straight to the clinic, there he found a note and death by the claws of his first pray. Who had left the note and with what purpose were mysteries Connor left to another day, what was more important was the guidance those simple words gave him: _‘seek paleblood to transcend the hunt’_. To learn about blood he had to find the source of it, all roads lead to the Cathedral.

At that point Connor had felt death and resurrection in equal parts. The first time was fast and shocking, a convulsion of physical pain and agony; the next times he was always immersed in the feeling of the hunt, _instinctive, virulent, destructive._ He didn’t think about dying until he couldn’t move. There was no time to rationalize just act. To move as fast as possible to avoid be cornered by beasts, to slaughtered them fast so they wouldn’t notices the hunter’s presence.

Death used to feel like drowning. After the fear came bitter acceptance, cold realization of his human condition. Now… now it felt like a shut down, a second he was there fighting to survive, then it was darkness, pain was no more a determinant sensation because he had blood, with blood the burning sensation disappeared. If he had to be honest, after a couple of times Connor felt death more like a frustration. An impediment in his quest, no matter the pain, the wounds, the fear. He had to hunt, to advance, to understand.

He still screamed and whimper every time he died. Maybe that was the only proof he needed to still consider himself a human.

Rebirth in the other hand kept feeling as the first time. It was a sweet sensation Connor compared to wake up after a long, good nap. Full of energy with a clear mind, he only needed to find his path one more time, again.

 _Again_. The world sounded heavy in his mind.

Every time the pain vanished and his consciousness blurred he would wake up near a lamp or inside the place where he found his weapons, Kamski, and the sleepy doll. He didn’t know why or what was the name of that garden of white flowers, silver moon and a lonely workshop for him to use. He first thought it was a dream to realize it wasn’t or that was what he thought, just another twisted mystery to solve.

A flicker of light stopped his movements, Connor hold his breath listening, ready to attack at any sign of danger. When the flickering light was the only signal he received, he decided to get close; it was an entrance, maybe a path to his destiny.

With a spark of hope Connor walked faster, he would never think how much he was going to hate darkness until that day, though something deep inside like a voice of crude reality, warn him that his quest would be darker and darker. It was only the beginning. Connor pushed aside the idea, he just needed some light, a glance of not decayed air; he found a balcony and a standing shape with his back.

A cape made of black feathers danced with the air, the light of the orange-colored moon traced the silhouette with almost magical elegance; Connor stayed there mesmerized and restricted to move, to brake the enchantment of the individual in front of him. The stranger turned to face him a white crow mask added more mystery to the recipe, however the real enchanting were those mismatched eyes behind the mask.

Connor saw clear blue and shiny green. He remembered the sky of his homeland, the sensation of fresh grass. The days without _fear_.

“Oh, you're a hunter”. Said the crow masked with a sweet voice with no malicious or deadly intentions. “Come closer Hunter. I don't bite” and then laughed, maybe the joke would have been fun to him before, still the sound felt like water in a dessert. Forgiveness inside the purgatory. Enough to convince Connor to do as he was asked. “You’re shaking!” The crow masked seemed entertained.

_Shit._

Connor bit his lips grateful of wearing the black fabric covering all his face except his eyes. Even so the hunter detected a tender glance in the crow’s voice, something soft capable of making him feel less annoying with himself and his inappropriate reaction to the hunt, to the world he was discovering.

“Take a deep breath, a hunter shouldn’t be scared of beasts”, with hands covered by black gloves the crow squeezed Connor’s hands, face to face Connor saw in those eyes what he thought would be impossible: understanding, mercy, a stellar of empathy. “I suppose you have a mission, so do I. Keep walking and find what you’re looking for”.

A farewell, Connor assumed, what else could he say to stranger? But the idea of leaving that small peace made Connor’s heart beat in pure panic, should he said something? Should he asked for something? At the end he said nothing, Connor moved away a few steps without the will to break the eye contact, it was the crow who did it at the same instant he tilted his head and the big, sharp hat covered with shadows his face except the beak of the mask.

Connor nodded. The last thing listened from the stranger was as enigmatic as his single presence.

“And tell the little doll I said hello”.

 

* * *

 

 

Simon looked at the crow descending from the tall, gothic style constructions of Yharnam with relief, every movement was calculated and graceful, the cape floated looking more like big black wings than fabric. Elegant in a way any other hunter couldn’t achieve even with years of training; maybe it was just the crow, the meaning of his presence. The symbology behind his existence.

Simon grinned and opened the window to welcome his friend, the little red lantern hanging of the window frame made a subtle sound like a bell. The smell of the herbs he learned to burn inside the lantern to scare away the beasts got into his house filling every inch of it; the crow made sure to properly seat the object before entering the house; nowadays the practice couldn’t keep away the beasts, not anymore, but at least serve to show the hunters who was still alive.

“Did you find your pray?”, Simon asked walking from his position in the living room to the front door. The crow shrugged, then closed the door behind him with his foot. Simon hardened his expression in a futile attempt to look annoying; “please, Markus, take out that mask. And the boots, I don’t want to clean the carpet again”.

Markus, the crow clasped his hands in front of his chest as an apologize. A pantomime they practiced as an inside joke since they met; when he retired the mask and left it on the coat stand with the cape _and_ the boots he felt _human_ one more time. The heavy mission he had inherited from his master and adoptive father was lighter without part of the uniform. On his belt shining with every little light the ‘Blade of Mercy’ a medium size two-blades in one weapon, long as his arms kept its position. It was a reminder and a guarantee.

“So, did you find him?” Simon repeated, following the steps of the _hunter of hunters_ to the couch.

“Not even the dust”, Markus collapsed on the furniture, eyes closed, all relaxed in the worse possible position for his back according to Josh. A nap would be so good or just a long calm sleep night. The hunt night had established its presence as a cursed that few of them could detected, no one could determine when a new day comes or if days would come back. It was always hunting night.

So, the more time past the quantity of hunters falling into bestiality increase and Markus, the one who prays for them, the one who gave them a merciful death, found himself with more and more work. “But”, Markus continued well knowing his friends silence was a sign for him to keep talking, “I may or may not found someone interesting today”.

“Who was the lucky one to catch your attention?” Simon got back to his place beside the window. With sharp eyes he looked around waiting to see any kind of beast.

“A new hunter”.

Simon definitely wasn’t expecting that nor even the curious tone behind the tiredness in Markus voice.

“I don’t know if I should be happy, or feel pity for him”. Simon admitted.

“There’s no happiness in hunting” specially not the type the new hunter was trapped. “He was shaking, like a leaf”. Markus knew the kind of the new one as soon as he saw those brown eyes and felt sorry for him.

Markus didn’t dream anymore but he used to and such ‘adventure’ left marks impossible to erase or to hide to the experimented eye. As hunters or just users of the ‘healing blood’, the mysterious type of blood capable to cure any disease (or so they said, before the worst illness appeared, the bestiality) all of them received an invisibible _mark_ ; Markus used to know the name of those but as his past became blurry, a mix of reality and nightmares with no form or meaning, he forgot the name alongside a different kind of knowledge.

Markus saw the mark inside the new hunter’s eyes. He saw despair and fear, eyes starving for understanding drowned in confusion; Markus prayed for him, he didn’t know anymore to whom directed his prayers, but he remembered words, someone telling him that gods were willing to hear prays and, sometimes, they answered for better or worse. He always hoped it was for the better.

“We’ll see him around so”, Simon made his conclusion with a nod to himself, since the day he met the crow Simon learned when to stop talking. It was not the worry of being annoying, Markus was with no doubt the most kind-hearted outsider Simon had ever met, always willing to listen and help even if it wasn’t in his hands. It was a cruel irony he had to bear the responsibility of killing his own comrades when the time came and so, Simon gave him space to rest, a safe place to hide out of the duties and the hunt.

A female voice echoed in the distance. The sound of footsteps, a male raised his voice too; Markus frowned not moving an inch, Simon sighed, both knew who were the ones almost drawing all beasts in Yharnam to their position.

“Remind me”, Markus voice was slightly exasperated, though the other one caught a glance of amusement, “why I keep sending them together?”

“Because I’m not a hunter”, not anymore at least, “plus you refuse to let them wander around Yharnam alone _and_ refuse to hunt with someone else”. The last part of his point came with the perfect tone of a worried father.

When Simon opened the door both hunters where already there. The female, North, one of the most skilled hunters in all Yharnam pointed her weapon, the _chikage_ a long now bloody katana, in front of Josh who kept his position straight and angry with that proud air all hunters affiliated to the ‘Healing Church’ had, even if he didn’t work for them since the longest night was established.

The tip of the _chikage_ brushed dangerously Josh’s nose; North’s expression was a mix of indignation and pure fury.

“Said it  again and I’ll murder you”, she shushed. North narrowed her eyes ready to move if necessary.

“Do it”. Josh challenged, without moving a millimeter of his position. “At the end you’re not different to them, to those disgusting _vampires_ [1] of Cainhurts!”

Even Simon felt pain with such degrading comparison.

“That’s enough!”

Simon interceded the exact moment North holded the _katana_ tight. If she was sure of killing his comrade was something Simon didn’t want to find out, not when she not only looked angry but _hurt_ ; Josh saw it in her eyes too, but stubborn as he was he refused to apologize immediately; instead Josh pressed his lips in a thin line, he looked at the floor and then looked at her again when the _chikage_ rested inside its scabbard and North’s hair, long and messy shadow her features.

It was the time when Markus show up, he was sure none of his friends would kill each other, no matter how threaten their worlds became; besides he wasn’t the type of man with enough patience to listen to childish discussions. Gods were compassionate to give him Simon, always calm, cold-headed and focus to his side.

“What happened?” Markus asked. Both hunters looked at each other, the scene looked more like two kids fighting that the two arm adults ready to kill each other. North closed her arms, Josh huffed and decide to talk first.

“We found a hunter”, Josh started, he felt North’s sharp eyes over him. She was more than ready to yell at him at the very second she felt he wasn’t telling the story properly. “I thought we could talk to him, the more we are the better chance to survive we have! But he attacked us and… North killed him”.

“That’s all?” Simon knew too well those hunters to guess they were hiding something. Marksu knew it too, so he kept silence, his mismatched eyes judging them.

After a few seconds, the female hunter talked.

“We didn’t just bump into him, we heard about his location and we hunted him”. North admitted, no matter how cold she could act, or how strong she was, her feelings towards Markus, the sympathy, admiration and unconditional love always win. She couldn’t lie to him.

“But then I thought we could talk! What if he wasn’t fell fully into bestiality? Maybe we could so something for him!” Josh looked at North with the same anger as before. North returned the feeling.

“He was _a beast_ . He almost _killed you_ because you’re too soft to defend yourself. What kind of hunter are you?”

“Enough”. Simon said, exasperated but touched.

They were arguing because their approach to that hostile world was different. Josh trained to be a hunter and he was a good one, skilled with good strategies, but left the ‘Healing Church’ when he was unable to kill with no remorse; North felt remorse too, she wasn’t a monster, but she knew very well that was the only way to act. Beast couldn’t feel empathy. Beast couldn’t think or so they thought; still their feelings to Markus were similar, and he knew it.

Markus sighed and nodded, his expression softened. He got closer first to Josh and fixed the hunters hat, then he inspected North’s sides to be sure there were no wounds to be healed. “What was the name of the hunter?” He asked.

North and Josh looked at each other. They reminded in silent unable to answer.

Markus took a deep breath, and asked again. “Where did you leave his body?”  

“Near the bridge”. Josh answered.

Simon knew what happened next. “Come home, I have dinner ready” he informed, Markus entered first, took the rest of his uniform and went out without saying a word. If he was faster enough, maybe he could safe part of the body from the starving beasts. “I knew you two had good intentions, but it’d be better for us if you don’t do it again”, Simon said when the crow disappeared of their sight.

“We just tried to help”, North said. “Have you ever seen him smile since we met?”

No. None of them knew how Markus looked smiling. Sometimes they heard his laugh, a short, light giggle sweet but exhausted. Those moments were more and more limited as the hunting night prolonged. Nor Simon, nor even Josh answered that question, all of them chose to follow Markus, and at the same time they feared the day they couldn’t hear his laugh one more time.

 

* * *

 

 

Markus, the crow managed to find the body before the beasts finish it. Around the bridge were no humans so the crow didn’t bother to kill the creatures; he tricked them, took what was still complete of the corpse and run away.

In an empty alley the crow made a fire. Beast fear fire, it was use to purify the streets but the crows believe in fire as a form to purify a soul. With the corpse, Markus burned a mixed of herbs and crow feathers of his cape, it smelled like cinnamon, though the smell became acre when the flesh turned into ashes, the sound of embers reminded.

Markus kneeled in front of the fire. “I’m sorry I don’t know your name. You did a good job hunter, I hope you find peace in the dreaming world”, he said softly, almost a whisper.

The hunting was never a honorable job, it was dirty and cruel. Dangerous and frightened. The ones who accepted it were those who didn’t have anything else or wanted to save some lives, to help their people; the most stupid type of heroism but also the most valuable. Hunters lurked in the dark, some people thanked them most of them condemned the hunters for not doing a ‘good job’, when Markus learned how to buried their bodies he thought it wasn’t enough.

Sooner he understood there were no time and no space to do something bigger. Something better. So he took the time to know each name or nickname of the ones he killed, in Yharnam was difficult to learn the past of their citizens, but he tried; if at least one person could recognize and be sympathetic with them, cry for them during their last moments their death wouldn’t be as lonely as it really was.

Blood gave birth to Yharnam, blood brought bestiality. Hunters used blood to heal themselves, to be stronger and better, but blood transformed them into beasts. It was the crows duty to hunt those who fell, fast and merciless. But it was Markus decision to take the time to learn, and keep company to the fallen until the fire fade and the last ashes left with the wind.


	2. The longest night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the sewers to Central Yharnam, Connor wanders around to find the first step to his salvation: insight, waking up the sleepy doll. A lonely girl asks for help, and Daniel offers him more questions than answers.
> 
> It’s a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, good reader! Welcome back. Let’s go deeper into this world of ‘gods’ and blood, and remember: 
> 
> —Explanation and reference are based on my own interpretation, playthrough, fan theories and analyzes.  
> —This is not a hundred percent loyal adaptation to Bloodborne.
> 
>  **Important:**  
>  My writing comes from three sources: my language knowledge, my knowledge about storytelling and any kind of free/online grammar checker I can find. If you see something weird. I truly apologize. One day I’ll learn to write.
> 
> With that clear, _let the good blood guide you._

_«Something is watching»_

 

 

Most of the beasts around only needed two or three slashes to die. Before their last breath abandoned them, they had emitted a guttural, choked roar. Words split inside the animalistic sound. _‘Rest in peace.’_ They murmured. ‘ _You’re cursed’_ ; others said, blood flew from their wounds until his attire, to his face. It covered all his body.

He felt cursed.

Connor came back to Daniel’s. His house was in Central Yharnam near the second lamp he found. The object hung from a metal curve pole surrounded by little ill-fed gnomes —or he thought they were gnomes—; since he turned on the lamp. Those creatures were pale, their faces were a scary combination of idiocy and pain. Like little, starved zombies with long arms. They came from a whitish fog covering their legs —if they had it—; the little creatures looked at the lamp above them or at the green bells decorating the structure. Connor couldn’t know. And sometimes, Connor thought they _murmured_ words.

The moon was still there, immutable. He sat bellow Daniel’s house window after finding a shortcut from the sewers. In front of the lap and the pale creatures, Connor felt anxious; he took a heavy, deep breath and felt his hands shivered. He wasn’t too tired, not after almost consumed all his blood vials. But suddenly he felt the need for blood, to drink more of the reddish, mysterious liquid.

He gulped. A dry sensation overwhelmed him as the thought of drinking the healing blood became stronger. One bottle more wouldn’t kill him, right? It would make him fill better, wouldn’t it? Before reaching the blood vial, Connor touched his new discovery. He founded it on the sewers, among a bunch of trash, dirty water and things he didn’t want to know the origin.

He took it from his belt and held it in front of his eyes. It was a human skull smaller than a normal one. At first sign Connor thought it’d be the skull of a kid, but he had a hunch it wasn’t. It was something else. Connor felt lost inside the black holes, he could swear it was a greenish light inside the object, and maybe he could be right.

The strange light made his attraction to the skull stronger than the blood desire. He was hypnotized by those dark holes staring at him with no eyes, but mysteries and answers. Connor squeezed, and the skull broke. The sound made him gasped out of surprise and confusion.

Before he could rationalize the weakness of his discovery, Connor froze. It was there. It came from nowhere. Whispers pierced his ears. Stabbed his brain and gave him an odd certainty: those voices were _knowledge_. He couldn’t understand them at first, but with the second pass, it became clear. At least, some of them.

 _Don’t drink more blood_.

The thirst was still there, hunted him like a ghost. But Connor didn’t drink.

 _Insight_. It’s how the skull was named by… _who?_

 _Something is watching_.

He had to find more insight. But for now, with the thirst slowly fading he’d had enough thinking for one night. Connor knocked at the window three times with the saw cleaver. The soft metallic sound against the window’s bars echoed.

“Who’s there?”

Daniel’s voice was drowned by the curtains. Connor hadn’t seen his face, but it wasn’t necessary. Had someone to talk was something Connor never knew he would need so bad.

“It’s me," Connor answered. Daniel coughed. That was the first thing the hunter knew about his ‘new friend.’ He was sick. His cough was progressively getting worse. This time Connor thought he would have to force his entrance to Daniel’s house and drag him to the clinic, even if there wasn’t anyone there to help. Not alive or human, at least. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine.” The man said with a raspy voice. “You look like crap.”

Connor chuckled, he looked at the moon one more time, “Can you see me from there?”

“No. But I knew the hunting. You sound like shit, smell like shit. So, you look like crap.” Daniel coughed again, a little softly but still worrying; “I’d tell you to move your ass out of my wall, but it’ll be stupid. Everything is a disgusting mess here.”

Connor nodded, before he could make a joke about it the memory of those mismatched eyes came to his mind again. “Hey, Daniel.” He said, after a while. “Do you know a guy with a crow mask?”

“Crow mask?”

Connor heard him moving around, a metallic ‘click’, a soft rush of clothes. Then a smell of herbs. The notion of those little details was weird, Connor could have never suspected how much good the ‘healing blood’ would make to his body. His senses were better, his sight clearer; he felt stronger, faster. Connor caressed one of the blood vials. His new knowledge dictated to not drink more blood if it wasn’t necessary.

“Ah! You’re talking about Markus.”

“Markus?” Connor asked, his own voice sounded distant but firm.

“Yup. He’s an outsider like you and me. Honestly, he’s the nicer guy I ever met.” Daniel paused, maybe he was considering his next words. “My brother follows him.” The hunter wondered if it would be a good idea to ask about Daniel’s family, or about his disease. Instead, he hummed and left it for another time.

Markus had been too kind to him. Too much if he considered the way those eyes looked at him. With tender and mercy. But for Connor, anyone who didn’t try to kill was the nicer guy in this world. “Have you seen him before?”

“A couple of times, yes. He came here ten minutes ago or so.”

Impossible.

“What?”

Connor stood up. The lack of sense in Daniel’s words made him frowned, how could the crow guy be “ten minutes” before him? Connor needed at least forty minutes to walk from the sewers to that house thanks to the shortcut. And there weren’t more of those to Daniel’s house; he was sure about it after three hours wandering, killing beasts. Then he remembered the hour when he arrived at that bloody hole, it was ten o’clock at night. Just before the gate closed. He spent two hours in the clinic and then he found Daniel.

“Ten minutes, are you deaf?” He coughed, long and painfully.

“There’s something I can do for you?” Connor wondered if he should give some blood to his friend. Or find something, someone.

“It’s very kind of you but I’ll be dead soon. There’s no cure for me.”

Connor didn’t like the resignation in Daniel’s voice, but he thought the man was smiling. “What time is it Daniel?” He asked. He needed to be sure about the time.

“Uh. One in the morning.”

Connor felt dizzy. The initial doubt suddenly became horror. It couldn’t be, _it’s impossible_.

“No.” He said and tried to keep his voice calm. But the realization made him shiver from head to toe. “You told me it was one in the morning when I arrived.” It had passed four or five hours since they met. The hunter looked at the moon, his eyes were a mix of disbelief and horror, why was still that hideous moon in the sky? Like an ethereal but eternal _god_.

It would have to be dawn.

“Did the hunt drive you mad?” Daniel wasn’t amused. “I don’t know what hour I told you before, but it’s one in the morning.”

Daniel started to cough again, Connor didn’t have the strength to rebuttal. From his position, he saw the clock tower.

It was one in the morning.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Connor was still thinking about the time when he arrived at the Hunter’s Dream. That place was the personification of a fairy tale.

A place located far away, surrounded by clouds and giant pillars with no beginning or end. A cloudy sky, a stone path guided to the workshop: A big wood house, full of books, furniture and the tools he needed to repair or forficate his weapons. There wasn’t a door or a shortcut to that ethereal place. Instead, Connor used the lamps.

He leaned in front of it and fixed his eyes on the lamp; its purple light shone. He felt wrapped by… arms or similar. When he opened his eyes, he was there. However, this time Connor was welcomed by a lonely and quiet figure.

It was the doll.

Connor approached, suspicious and ready to attack if needed. Though she smiled at him and leaned with her hands crossed against her long skirt. Her blue eyes looked tender, somehow alive.

“Welcome back, good hunter.” She said, with a sweet voice. Her face was made with perfect porcelain, blue eyes with no shine of life and red lips perfectly painted. The doll could be talking, moving with gesture that reminds humans, but she looked cold.

“Who are you?” Connor asked. He looked around and then at the doll again, “where’s Kamski?”

“I’m a doll,” she answered. She looked at her left where a secondary path led to the workshop too. “Kamski is in that direction. But you don’t need to worry. I’m here to serve you, good hunter.” Connor felt uneasy, the man who welcomed him barely explained his situation. Kamski told him he could use ‘as he pleased’ the doll. Those words still had a weird connotation Connor refused to accept or to follow. “Please, give me your hand.”

Connor considered the idea for a couple of seconds. She didn’t look dangerous, though the place made him feel safe, a sensation of peace difficult to ignore. Even so, Connor stayed alert, he gave the doll his left hand while the right reminded near his weapon. The doll took his hand with both of hers and squeezed softly, then Connor _felt it_.

It felt like energy running through his body to hers and vice versa. Like a cycle. He looked at the doll with surprise, a look full of questions. She was smiling, openly and brightly. Somehow, she looked more than a tool. She looked alive, Connor had the hunch she had been doing this process for a long time. “Those are _echoes_.” She explained. “Let me canalize them to make you stronger.”

Connor closed his eyes. He focused on the sensation of the echoes inside him. Running inside his body, _like blood_. Part of him was mesmerized, the other wanted to ask as much as possible or even more. When the doll left his hand, he opened his eyes but before he could ask. He saw again the cold, perfect expression and knew he wouldn’t get what he wanted.

Not yet.

“What are those?” He asked pointed to the floor where the ‘gnomes’ gather near the main path to the workshop.

“Oh! The little ones.” The doll sounded slightly happier to see them. “They worship the hunters, aren’t they cute?”

Connor wouldn’t call them cute if he had to be honest. “Sure.” Still, it didn’t make sense contradict her. “Thanks.” It was his only answered. He walked towards the secondary path, though, before leading his way to Kamski, Connor looked at her over his shoulder. “Markus sends his greetings.”

For one second the doll’s expression change. She looked alive again with surprise and happiness in her eyes. Though she didn’t answer. The doll smiled and nodded.

Through the secondary path, Connor discovered a third way. That land wasn’t as small as he thought even if it was circular. With the new path, he found a source made of stone, like the one in the middle of both paths. This one as the first one was white and full of ‘the little ones.’ They barely moved and looked almost bored, until Connor approached. The tried to fix their posture, looked ready to whatever thing the hunter needed.

He wondered if one day he could find them ‘cute.’

Kamski was at the border of that land. The border was marked by a fence made of metal. White flowers decorated the land. The man was standing. Turned his back, he looked at the sky. Connor felt unsure to approach, it almost looked like the man was having a conversation —or _hearing_ orders— with something surreal and superior, only visible by faith. But his expression was what managed to concern Connor. He looked…

In despair.

The desperation disappeared immediately like a hallucination. It was replaced by a serious, plain expression. Connor decided it wasn’t time to talk and came back to Yharnam.

It was hunting time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the middle of the large square, Connor stared at the werewolf crucified. The creature was three times the size of an average human adult male. The beast’s mandible was open, stained  in blood and flesh. Bellow it; the ones who hunted it set a fire. There were building around the square Connor still had to explore.

The hunter admired the work with a blank mind. His thoughts revolved around _insight_ and the moon that now terrified him. With closed eyes, he heard the low growls of creatures in the distance, from his right. Female laughs came from his right. It was funny how that simple sound gave him the creeps. How someone could have fun when there were beasts killing everything that moves?

It was disturbing. Yharnamites[1] could have got used to the hunting, but for him, it still was an almost unbearable nightmare.

With laughing and growls, the hunter heard music in the air. A fading tune lost by the distance. A music box, he concluded after focusing on that sound, ignoring everything around him even the sound of the fire crackled.

Connor turned to his left, were the tune and laughs came. In his way he found another public plaza separate of the large square only by a large door, guarded by another hideous monster. Kill it and looted its body gave him some blood vials. A well-invested effort. There, the laughs came from a house, though he decided to move forward. Whatever reason those females had to have a party during hunting night it was not of his business.

However, the music box was different, it caught his attention like light to a moth. But when he approached the exact place, it was blocked by a gate.

 _Shit_.

Connor groaned. He was tired and exasperated of shortcuts, close gates, secret passages, and long stares. Yharnam was a labyrinth itself. Who would build a city in such weird ways? There wasn’t logic, and the idea that someone was trying to hide something inside the city or bellow was stronger enough to make him reinforced his goals. Find insight, find Cathedral Ward.

 _Keep walking_.

Thinking wouldn’t give him answers. Not yet, at least.

Connor went back to Daniel’s, he heard the man coughing as he crossed the gate to the shortcut. He went down to the sewers where he avoided as many beasts as possible. And there he found the correct stairway after three failures. He knew he had found the correct way when the music box tune became stronger.

The tune came from a house with a red lamp. It was someone alive there, with lucky that person would remain sane or less hostile than the average.

Connor knocked at the window a couple of times. The music stopped, and he could catch someone gasping out of surprise or fear. Maybe both.

“Who are you?” Behind the wine-colored curtains, a little girl showed up. Brown hair tied in a ponytail. She looked suspicious at first, but as soon as she had a better look of Connor her eyes shone with excitement. “You’re a hunter!”

Connor felt surprised and _warmed_. A similar sensation when he had the hands of the crow over his owns. Since he started his path around Yharnam, he had founded despair. Blood and carnage. Daniel gave him someone to talk. However, the sudden realization that he was going to lose that company made him sick. Sadness than sooner or later will become desperate.

The little girl. The way her shoulders relaxed. The faint smile on her face. She wasn’t freighted not even disgusted by his presence. She was relieved. Happy to see him. Connor felt the urgency to know more about her. Help her if it was the case.

“Why are you alone?” He asked, with one look he made sure there weren’t beasts around them. “Where’s your mother?”

The little girl moved fast inside the house. For a moment Connor lost her sight. When she came back, he had the music box in his hands. “Please,” she started. Connor saw her eyes shining, as she was on the verge of tears but stubbornly refused to cry. “My dad is a hunter like you. He hasn’t come back yet, and mom went to see if she could find him, but she forgot this.” Connor took the little instrument with his left hand through the barely open window. “He can be erratic sometimes. The music calms him, mom needs it!”

Connor opened the music box to hear its tune one last time.

“Please,” she continued. “Give it to her. Find them. I don’t want to be alone anymore in this place, I’m scared.” She begged.

Connor wondered if it the incident had happened in his homeland, he would agree to such mission. Even so, he sighed and kept the music box in his belt, next to the blood vials and torch. “I’ll do my best”; he couldn’t promise her to find them alive. Not after what he had seen, still, his words were enough to make the little girl smile. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Alice.” She answered, calmer. “Mom has a short blonde hair. You won’t be lost, there’s not a lot of women like her around.” It wasn’t difficult to notice the love behind those words. Connor nodded, it didn’t sound like a big deal.

“Alice. Closed all the windows and doors. Don’t open any of them if it’s not your mother or me. Understood?”

Alice nodded and hurried to do what she was asked. Before closed and secure the window, she murmured. “Be careful, hunter.” Connor felt again that unique warm sensation.

There were, officially, three people who didn’t find him disgusting. Inside a big, deadly city, it felt good. Like a little piece of heaven among hellish madness. While Connor opened the gate that was closed on the other side, another shortcut to the large Square, he remembered the crow and Daniel, and wondered if they would be fine and alive the next time he met them.

He wished.

With the shortcut opened, Connor descended to the sewers again. He followed his previous path until one of the stairways he checked before, this one leaded him to a boulder bridge. Guarded by a group of beasts it was connected to the shortcut that started near Daniel’s house through an elevator.

Connor thought it was a bitter coincidence.

After the boulder bridge, and the creatures he killed and looted, ─he found between their torn clothes more blood vials. Those used to be humans too— Connor found next to an entrance the small skull of insight [2]. He took it immediately, eager to destroy it with his hands and learn more. This time the whispers were louder, but he couldn’t understand it at once. He didn’t feel anxious. He knew he would understand. And so, he kept walking.

It was the entrance of a big graveyard. Connor felt goosebumps the instant he noticed the change in the atmosphere. There, the light from the reddish moon couldn’t entered blocked by buildings; even so the place was illuminated by a silver light. Full of graves and crosses.

Some trees without leaves were crooked. Connor stepped forward, impressed and intimidated by the distressing feeling he perceived inside this new part of the city. The voices were still whispering ancient truths directly in his brain. In that small place of Yharnam, it was snowing ashes from the bodies buried in all the city. 

He wasn’t alone.

Steps ahead, Connor saw a man. The individual dropped an ax, one, two and three times until blood split over him, stained the earth and the tombs. He dismembered someone, a human. Connor recognized the ax as one of the weapons listened in the workshop. The hunter’s Axe, long as the half of his body. A mix of horror and resentful burned inside Connor, who gripped the slaw cleaver, his body tensed and ready to attack at the first sign of hostility.

The man, the hunter turned to face him. His attired covered in blood and flesh. Connor couldn’t see his face clearly hid by a hat and a tree shadows. Still, he could hear him clearly.

“Beasts all over the shop.” The hunter said, with both hands he gripped the ax. His voice was lower and raspy, “you’ll be one of them, sooner or later. I’ll finish it now.”

Connor took the saw cleaver with both hands in front of him waiting for the first attack. He had learned a hunter should wait for the suitable time to attack. He listed the blood vials he could remember he had used during his path, and the ones he stole from the beasts.

The hunter attacked first but Connor wasn’t ready for his speed and strength.

 _Too fast_. Connor clenched his teeth as he felt the gravel gave up bellow him. Face to face with the hunter he saw a blond-haired man with a long scar on his cheek and the bloody madness in his eyes. _Move, damn it. You have to move now!!_ Connor had to run, or the strength difference would crunch him against the floor. The hunter stepped back, Connor changed the weight of his body to his right foot the same instant the hunter attacked again, this time, he dragged on the ground the Hunter’s Axe and attacked from the bottom.

The blow forced Connor to release the saw cleaver from his right hand. The speed sent him against a group of tombs that collapsed thanks to the hit. Connor lost his breath and his vision went blur; stunned by the pain Connor barely registered the hunter shape running, ax in hands ready to split him in half.

 _Shit_.

Connor rolled to his right avoiding the first hit. The ax got stuck in the ground, but the hunter acted like he was used to the weight and technique and Connor had to roll again to the opposite again. He stopped a third blow that surely would smash his head with the saw cleaver as a shield. The metal of his own weapon touched his nose.

 _Of course, he knows how to use the damn hunter’s ax. He’s a hunter. He’s doing this for a long time until he got mad_. The hunter stepped back again, change his posture ready to attack again. Connor rolled to his left and managed to stand up. Ran as his life depends on it with all his energy to a stair that led him to a small balcony. It was a gate there, but Connor couldn’t check if it was open or locked, he only could drink a blood vial.

Even so, he was too late.

Connor had time to detail two things before death came: at the end of the balcony, bellow some coffins was the body of a blond shorthaired girl. And the gate was, indeed, locked. The way his body collided against it should be enough to open it, he knew it thanks to the way all the metal structure trembled.

Still, he had something to thanks. Death came with one, clean blow. Before the insane hunter could turn his body apart.

He woke up next to the lamp in front of Daniel’s house.

The past times he died and revived were faster. Less thinking, more action. But now the pieces of his last conscious thoughts still were there, like a storm in his mind. And so was the pain, the sound of his bones breaking, the warm sensation of his blood and the metallic sound of the gate trembling. Connor hugged himself, closed his eyes as his body shook like a leaf.

Could he run? Could he avoid that monster born from a most capable hunter than him? Alice said her mom had short blond hair. The little girl who instead of hating him, embrace his presence as hope. Connor took the saw cleaver next to him and stood up. He again counted the number of blood vials. The music box was there too.

He began to walk through the shortcut. Towards the elevator which would let him next to the bridge.

“If there’s something watching,” Connor whispered, to the air, to the moon. To the presence out there the insight told him it was surrounding everything and everyone. “Please” _let me save her._

Time and dead weren’t a problem anymore for him. No matter how many times it took him, Connor would slaughter that beast. He was a hunter, after all.

The second time he entered the graveyard, the hunter was waiting for him.

Connor got shot the instant he entered, literally. He managed to dodge it in the most part. Still, some bullets hurt his right shoulder and he was already bleeding when the first ax blow sent him to the other side of the graveyard. He tried to reach the balcony and the unconscious girl, part of his mind focused on protecting himself. Used the saw cleaver as an improvised shield, dodged as much as he could.

The other one was desperately trying to find a strategy. He wasn’t stronger enough, faster enough either.

He found death on the stairs to the balcony. To his bad luck, this time it wasn’t only a good, clean blow. When Connor woke up next to the lamp, again, it wasn’t the sound of broken bones what hunted him but the tearing of his flesh what made him puke. _Sorry, Daniel_. He would clean as soon as he finished his mission.

To his fourth attempt, Connor had understood something: Running was a stupid idea.

He also noticed that whatever that kept the time stuck in one in the morning also affected the area where he was fighting, and the ones trapped inside it. He had time to be terrified, time to feel concern and lost. But he was utterly frustrated. At that point part of the whispers he heard from the _insight_ had become clear.

 _Something is watching_. That ‘something’ wanted him to hunt.

Hunt and win. Succeeded. He was chosen among others like him to that only mission. Connor never asked for it, but he knew even without _insight_ it was impossible to reject it. He was cursed.

 _No matter what_. He repeated to himself, as his footsteps echoed in the graveyard. _I’ll win_. This time he didn’t run. He rolled and used the saw cleaver to protect himself from the first round of shootings. Then it came the first attacked with the ax, and he was ready. Connor took advantage of the few seconds the hunter needed to untie the ax from the ground and attacked as fast as he could. Without fear.

Connor wounded him. Blood stained his face. The hunter cried out in pain and attacked. Connor avoided it, he kept his distance until a new opportunity came. He didn’t feel sorry, but he wasn't pleased, though he was glad to keep cold-minded; still, the second time Connor opened a deep wound, and the blood not only splatter his face but his attire and the ground. He smiled under the cloth mask. The beast stank of sweat and blood as Connor did.

Connor didn’t keep his distance anymore. The closer, the better he had learned. It gave small opportunities to wound him, even if he received an equal number of wounds. It didn’t matter.

There was a moment when the hunter shrugged himself. The ax was left behind a couple of meters and Connor thought, with hope and joy it was his time to kill him. The only, perfect opportunity he would have. Connor lifted the saw cleaver, ready to cut the back of his neck; however, the worst was yet to come as the hunter cried out of pain, an agonic sound that started as a human but finished as a beast.

Fear strangled Connor’s heart. It was lucky or pure instinct he got away _just_ in time and stepped back in awe.

 _Run_.

He couldn’t. He was frozen in his place as the hunter became a beast. _A werewolf_. An erratic monster growling and salivating.

 _Run_.

Connor couldn’t avoid the first blow. This one sent him against one of the crooked trees, and even with his now broken bones, his lungs begging him for an instance to recover, he could move and rolled, but as much he tried to keep his distance the werewolf howled, jumped and tried to catch him with his claws again and again. The dreadful idea that now, he was the prey instead of the hunter ripped from his throat a cry of anguish.

A second blow threw him against a group of metallic coffins that fell over him. When Connor resigned himself to die, he looked directly at the eyes of the beast, standing in front of him, panting and growling with the smell of flesh and blood. The music box emitted its melody, after flying a few meters. The werewolf groaned in pain, its claws dug into his head as it held it, the cries were pitiful but gave Connor the opportunity to recover, got rid of the coffins and stand up.

He didn’t run.

Alice said his father was erratic sometimes. And the music box calmed him.

Alice was waiting for him, to find his parents. To not stay alone during the night.

It wasn’t fair, _I’m sorry Alice_. Connor took the saw cleaver with both hands. Before Alice’s father. The insane hunter. The beast could compose itself. Connor hammered the saw cleaver in his head. He knew the sound of the metal breaking the skull would hunt him in the future. He did it again, and again, drunk of frustration, fear, and rage. _It wasn’t fair_. He perceived his voice and barely register it as a human sound and not another cry of the beasts around.

 _It wasn’t fair_.

With the beast dead, he walked with some trembling steps towards the balcony. He still had one blood vial and wanted to keep it, in case another emergency too place. Though, he would gladly let himself be killed at that moment; at the end of the balcony, Connor knelt next to the blond-haired girl and moved the coffins. Connor hadn’t prayed in years, but he did it for her sake, he really hoped she was alive.

After moving her shoulder a couple of times, she took a deep breath and coughed, long and painfully. Connor removed the mask over his face. He didn’t want to look _like him_.

“Are you okay?” How funny, now his voice sounded as raspy and tired as Daniel’s.

She looked at him first with fear, then confusion. Her lips trembled as her world started to have order again. “Ralph!” She yelled and stood up with clumsy movements. Maybe something had altered the time in that place, in all Yharnam, but their bodies still resented the passage of time. Connor, still kneeling, took her by her forearm when she staggered. “Where’s he? Where’s Ralph?!” the concern in her voice made Connor felt worse if that was possible for him. The hunter stood up, he pointed with his weapon the corpse of the beast.

“Ralph!”

She ran to his side, but the second she could see better the appearance and state of the corpse, she doubted. Her hands covered her mouth to repress a cry of true horror. She murmured one more time the name of the beast, Connor saw she was crying and wondered why if he was accomplishing his duty if he was fighting for his life and the life of others he felt guilty.

If hell existed, it was Yharnam.

“You did this?” Connor didn’t answer, he closed his eyes and waited for whatever she had to say. The scorn never came, instead, she walked to the music box and tenderly closed it again. When Connor opened his eyes, she was right in front of him. “Thank you.” She still was crying, but her voice was strong and firm. “That… monster wasn’t him anymore.” She looked at the beast’s body one more time, before looking at him “I’m Kara. Thanks for saving me”.

Gratitude and hope. Those were better than fear and rage.

“Let’s walk fast. I’ll escort you to your house, Kara. Alice is waiting.”

During the way to Kara’s house, Connor felt dizzier. His vision blurred more and more and when they finally crossed the boulder bridge, made their way to the elevator and the stairways, Connor was at his limit. He could drink more blood but know he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea.

Kara run to the door, knocked and shouted Alice’s name. Connor sat on the ground with his back against the open gate. He understood the last pieces of the _insight_ whispers before fainting, with Alice’s voice calling him in the distance.

Something is watching. Indeed. And that ‘something’ was everywhere, every time. Like a _god_. It had a purpose and to fulfill it, it had chosen Connor as its knew hunter. But he still had time to make his own decisions.

To find his own salvation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1]Yharnamites is the canon name in Bloodborne, to refer to people born and raised in Yharnam.  
> [2] Every time you find a boss you receive insight. It just happens, so I’ll give it a little ‘logic’ inside this messy word.
> 
> Sorry Ralph, you were chosen to be my sacrificial lamb. But Todd took Father Gascoigne’s place, you need to be in better shape to be a hunter (?). And I doubt Kara would after him during hunting night.
> 
> The first time I encounter this boss I freaked out so bad. It wasn’t my plan and being a newbie not only in this game but in a general way I kept running trying to figure out a strategy. Honestly, for me, the most difficult bosses in bloodborne are other hunters or creatures with your size in DLC case. You learned to fight carefully, attract your prey, take them one by one. You can’t do that with hunters. You have to be faster and more direct.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! And remember, good reader.
> 
> Fear the old blood.


	3. The Cathedral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are mysteries in Central Yharnam that can’t be ignore. One day, the nightmarish truth will raise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really sorry for the delay here. I got trapped in other projects and different weeks I wanted to participate. Plus, I’m still figuring out how the fuck finish Dark Souls III including the DLCs.
> 
> Important! :  
> My writing comes from three sources: my language knowledge, my knowledge about storytelling and any kind of free/online grammar checker I can find. If you see something weird. I truly apologize. One day I’ll learn to write.
> 
> Let the good blood guide you.

_«The sacred adage of the Grand Cathedral»_

 

 

Connor was paralyzed over the dirty, cold stretcher. He wasn’t scared ─not yet─. A man moved around looking for something, he took bottles and left them again with annoyance in his face. Connor blinked, he tried to move but his efforts were worthless. Why was he there?

_Blood_.

Yes. He could remember. He was at the clinic waiting for his first blood ministration. He was in Yharnam in a quest for…

_Blood_.

Of course! Connor needed a cure. No, not for him. For his brother. Exactly! His twin was waiting for him in his homeland. The man stopped. He went by Connor’s side with a fake smile; Connor felt the needle, though it didn’t hurt it certainly felt weird. Distant. The blood started to flow inside his body. The transfusion had begun.

What was the name of the man? _Zlatko_.

“Take this as a contract, all signed and sealed,” The man said, he still had the fake smile on his face and a twisted gleam in his eyes. Connor knew he had to escape. It was how it started: the hunting, the killing, the interminable cycle. “Don’t get me wrong. Is nothing against you. I don’t know you, but don’t worry… You may think it’s a mere bad dream.”

There was a mockery in his world. A cruel joke. Connor looked at the ceiling and tried to move one more time. His vision became blurred at intervals; the world became pitch-black and came back when he tried to look at his sides; a pair of yellowish dangerous eyes looked at him as a creature —a werewolf—, emerged from tainted, thick blood over the floor.

The man wasn’t there anymore. He was alone, and the monster growled closer and closer.

He had to escape. _Come on, run. Do something! Anything, please._

The werewolf moved closer, slowly. Hunting him. But when it tried to touch him with its long, bloody claw it caught fire that covered all his body; Connor looked at his body to see the ‘little ones’ crawled from the corner of the stretcher. They were all over him and Connor tried to scream.

Terrifying he heard a single, sweet voice. Surprised but pleased at the same time.

“Ah! You’ve found yourself a hunter.”

That voice belonged to…

 

* * *

 

 

 

Connor woke up slightly in pain, but alive. Better than being ripped off, he supposed. The pain gave space to fatigue and so the hunter could know where he was.

He found himself on a bed, covered by comfortable blankets and a soft pillow. He felt safe, still, he looked around ready to jump out of the warm spot until he found the saw cleaver, leaning against the bed. Clean and ready to be used. It was a small room; the window next to him was carefully closed.

Connor took a deep breath, closed his eyes and thought, with no desire to stand up soon.

The dream, no. The memory floated in his mind as if fainted after a long and hard battle brought him back things he ─or something else? ─ wanted to forget. Connor had doubted of his sanity before, when the smell of blood was overwhelmed and intoxicated; it was different now. He knew that experience was real. Immersed as he was on the hunting Connor forgot his main motive: a cure. Not for him, for his only family.

Did the pass of time was normal outside Yharnam? How much time had passed? Deep in his mind, Connor wondered if his brother was still alive and waiting for him. He had to hurry, to focus more on his own priorities instead of some weird curiosity. Curiosity killed the cat after all, but the cat died knowing.

And he really wanted to know and maybe, inside that knowledge was the cure.

The healing blood was still an option but the unhuman voices whispering directly into his mind, not to drink more blood when the thirst was overwhelming made him doubt. Was it being the blood, the thirst what transformed Alice’s father into that creature? He had to know, Connor was sure there was something inside Yharnam or in the surroundings capable of helping his beloved brother.

The thing, whatever it was, that chose him could perfectly fuck itself. He was going to survive. He had someone waiting for him at home.

And the voice…

_It was the doll’s voice._

The realization gave him goosebumps. He couldn’t trust her anymore.

Zlatko told him the transfusion was a contract, with ‘who’ was another question to add to the list. Connor doubted the doll was talking to the man. He was sure at the time the process took place it was just them. And when he woke up again, he was left alone. Could the doll have spoken to the ‘something’ that chose him, and undoubtedly, stopped the time to prolong the hunting night?

More important, what was that ‘something’ and where Connor could find it?

To slaughter it.

His train of thoughts got cut by footsteps. The soft sound came first, the door opened later to show Kara carrying with her a tray with a couple of dishes. The smell was enough to make Connor’s stomach growls. The girl giggled, and the brave hunter felt his face burned.

“What’s that? A beast?”

“Sorry.”

Connor felt ashamed but happy at the same time. As he sat on the bed, stretched his body to feel his painfully tired muscles; he noticed he was wearing only the white shirt and different pants. Kara sat next to him, patiently waiting for him to be ready. Somehow it felt like home like the outside world was no more than a nightmare and he entered the real dream; _I’m trash but I’ll give everything to stay here_ , far away of the monsters, the blood, and flesh.

“Don’t worry. Here, eat something.” She smiled as she pointed out some rice, meat, and soup. There was a small plate too with some candies and he figured out it’d been Alice’s idea.

“How’s Alice?” Kara’s expression darkened, her hands hold thigh her skirt. With the adrenaline, and the phantom of dead breathing in his ears Connor didn’t feel the need to say something. He was unable to think about words. He hadn’t that excuse now; his mind was clear even with the fuzzy reminds of memories. “I’m sorry,” he didn’t feel guilty, possibly he wouldn’t do but it was the correct thing to say.

“She’ll be fine.” There were certainty and strong security in Kara’s voice that made Connor wondered about them. He nodded and started eating. Behind the window and the walls, beyond the illusion of ‘home’, the growling of blood-starving beasts echoed. “She cleaned your weapon. She used to do it a lot for Ralph,” Kara tried to smile, to show everything was fine.

“Why are you here?” The question sounded off, the girl bemused thought about the best answer.

No one entered Yharnam for nothing.

“Alice was born here,” she started. Her eyes fixed on the blanket. “Ralph and I came looking for a cure for him, but that _blood_ never cured him. He was erratic, and it became worse and worse.”

Connor didn’t lose the way she pronounced ‘blood,’ the resentment and hate behind the twisted hope.

“Alice’s parents are dead.” The hunter concluded. Kara nodded.

“She never talks about them, and I don’t ask. But you’ve seen how this place is, when we arrived it was infested by beasts. People told me stories when Yharnam was a good place to live, I can’t imagine such times.” Kara stood up and retired the tray and dishes, Connor kept for himself the candies; maybe later when he had to drink blood, eat it would ease the sensation. “What’s your story?”

Connor looked at his hands over the blanket and somehow, he felt better. He wasn’t the only fool there. “I’m looking for a cure.” When the hunter looked at the girl, she was smiling, not with pity or sympathy. It was a true, bright smile full of hope.

“You’ll find it,” she walked towards the door. “You can stay here as much as you want, we don’t mind a little company.”

“Thank you.”

Before living, Kara asked one last question.

“What’s your name?”

The hunter thought long about it. In the end, he allowed himself the faint of a smile. Tired but confident.

“I’m Connor.”    

 

 

* * *

 

 

 “Are you leaving now?”

Connor stopped in front of the locked door. He felt better after eating and taking a short nap; his muscles relaxed, and his mind cleared. He thought, he’d never be ready for the hunting, though, he had recovered his resolution.

Alice was looking at fox toy, traces of tears still visible on her checks. Kara was by her side, hugging her by the shoulders. Both of them sat on the floor in the living room, comforting each other; Connor had never felt proud of the beast he had killed and for one second, as he looked at the scene and his mind forgot about the danger waiting for him. He felt like murder. A disgusting, horrific killer who had destryoyed a small family.

“Do you know a way to reach the Cathedral?” The hunter asked, no matter his feelings he had to push them aside and focus on his own problems and path.

“The only way is through the bridge. And it’s close,” Kara squeezed Alice’s shoulder, the little girl didn’t look away from the toy.

Connor nodded frustrated. Wondering around Yharnam again didn’t sound like a good idea for him. As soon as he removed the lock on the door, the little girl talked.

“There’s another way,” Alice moved the toy up and down. “The cathedral has two entrances.”

_Of course! She’s a yharnamite_. Connor had thought it was pointless to ask the little girl for direction. He had saved her mother at the expense of killing her father, and she didn’t look older enough to know about the multiples nooks inside the city.

“Where is that way, Alice?” Connor tried not to sound as eager as he was. His right hand was still around the latch, all muscles ready to jump to the action as soon as possible.

“Dad has a key,” Alice started, as she left the toy opposite Kara and looked at Connor. “The key opens a grill in the Tomb of Oedon. You can reach the Cathedral through it.”

“The Tomb of Oedon is where you find me,” Kara added before the hunter could ask.

Did it be the light at the end of the tunnel? The hunter was too eager to think about possibilities or future danger; he had to hurry. The time was an illusion from now on, but it didn’t mean it could be too late to take whatever it was left behind by Ralph’s corpse before beasts could devour him.

“Thanks, Alice!”

He didn’t notice the smile on his face until he was outside, yelling at them to lock the door and not open if it wasn’t him; Connor didn’t worry of being careful, he ran as fast as he could through the shortcut and avoid as much beasts as possible.

However, this time his eyes caught something he hadn’t seen before with attention.

Next to the shortcut that was near Daniel’s house and the lamp, there was a house Connor didn’t pay attention at first, obsessed with finding a way to the Cathedral and then to save Kara’s life. He didn’t have time to curiosity, but he assumed he wasn’t going to waste more than a few minutes, five or even less; so, he crossed the open doors of the house as it was meant to be an invitation. It was dark and silent, Connor walked slowly; he tried to avoid doing any sound especially with the wood floor below him.

It was a two floors house. The first floor was full of chairs, bookshelves and trash. A humanoid silhouette was sitting in a wheelchair in front of one of the bookshelves near a corner; Connor wasn’t sure if it was a human or a beast, but it breathed. The hunter walked slowly and with is mind blank full of wild instinct he pierced the head with the saw cleaver, blood stained the hunter mask covering his face, even so, Connor didn’t blink and wait until the body convulsed a couple of times before stop moving.

He moved the wheelchair to find a beast. One who was human a long time ago. Connor left his weapon on his belt again, as his eyes found a single note in the only part of the bookshelf with no books.

_«When The hunt Began, the Healing Church left us, blocking the great bridge to Cathedral Ward, as Old Yharnam burned to the ground that moonlit night. »_

“Old Yharnam?” Connor’s voice resounded, above him, he could hear the heavy breathing of a beast, but for now, he’d leave that part of the house for later. Connor kept the note and continued his way to the boulder bridge. He wondered if that was the one the note referred to as the ‘great bridge,’ if that was true, why the ‘Healing Church’ left behind those who were still alive?

_Old Yharnam_. Those words made an echo in his mind.

There was something hiding in that place after all. Something to justify the ridiculous and complex way of Yharnam alleys and streets. As he thought about it, Connor avoided the beast and entered what he thought was just a graveyard. The creatures didn’t follow him, and now he could feel better the ominous sensation inside the Tomb of Oedon.

Like if something was there, everywhere. It was in the ear and in every breathing.

Connor wondered who or what was Oedon, somehow, he knew he would learn it sooner or later even against his own desires.

Ralph’s body was still where Connor left it as it was the silver light, the ashes floating around. Nothing had changed and even the blood looked fresh; for one stupid second, he thought the bloody beast would stand up and attack him. Start again the horrific fight. Such a thing didn’t happen; Connor kneeled next to him and moved the body. The key shone shok by gravity, it was small and delicately decorated with small forms, it was also covered by Ralph’s blood. Connor had the need to clean it before using it as if that tainted blood could contaminate everything in the surroundings even after death.

_I’m getting paranoid_.

It could be, but Connor preferred being cautious.

The grill he had to open was the one he broke his bones and lost consciousness the first time Ralph killed him. The hunter found himself mesmerized by the sound of the grill rattling when he introduced and moved the key, to push him until opening it enough for him to cross; Connor looked over his shoulder one more time hoping he wouldn’t need to come back.

At the other side, Connor found more coffins and the entrance to an apparent extension of the sewers. Smaller and clean of beasts, there weren’t corpses or clues that could indicate he was following the correct path; still, he managed to reach an old, dirty ladder. Connor sighed exasperated, if one day he met Yharnam architect, he would kill him with no remorse.

When Connor reached the upper part no trap door was there to block his way. Instead of that, he entered easily inside a small study, its bookshelves full and book piles in the corners. Two large tables with archives and maps decorated the place. Out of curiosity, Connor kept some of the archives with himself, maybe in one of those he could find answers; among the papers, the hunter found another note, the third one so far in his walk.

_«The Byrgenwerth spider hides all manner of rituals and keeps our lost master from us. A terrible shame. It makes my head shudder uncontrollably. »_

_You have to be kidding me_. Another cryptic note not even related with the first two he had found. Connor felt his head would ‘shudder uncontrollably’ too. It had to be related. Connor was sure about it and his curiosity was getting worse. _Don’t forget why you are here_.

Opposite to the entrance he used there were rock stairs. Before, Connor found a wooden chest. He opened it and inside he founded a black suitcase with a simple name engraved on the surface: “Blood Gem Workshop Tool,” Connor read. When he opened the suitcase, he found an old dirty of blood and dust equipment; it looked like a small metallic tourniquet, it reminded Connor the machinery used to mark metal. “Guess I’ll keep you with me.” If it was related to the workshop, it would have to be important.

Connor used the suitcase to not only keep the workshop tool, but also the archives and notes he had collected so far. With his new precious objects in his left hand and the saw cleaver in the right one, the hunter moved on through the stairs going up between almost total darkness; it didn’t take him a lot to find the exit: a heavy, sculpted door. Dust fell from the ceiling when he opened it.

Behind the door, the hunter was welcomed by candelabrums and statues dressed in long soutanes with a hood. All of them kneeling with their arms stretching as if they were worshiping something superior. God, perhaps. At ground level was a thin layer of smoke, barely a fog that smelled like the herbs Daniel, Kara, and Alice used to keep away the beast.

Connor felt small. Mesmerized by the big structure part of him thought, with a certainty capable of making him shiver, he was in the presence of whatever the statues were worshiping. The big walls were decorated with pillars. He was surrounded by urns of all sizes, candles on the floor; from the ceiling hung red wine curtains and a raid-haired man wearing a red soutane was sitting on the floor at his right in the middle of the urns and the candles.

“Oh! A hunter!” The mand sounded happy. Connor wondered how long he’d keep the good luck to find people with that mood. “Sorry, the incense should have covered your aroma.”

“What is this place?”

The construction had an exit in front of them, after what looked a small space to people reunite and pray. In that space, at the right, there was a closed door. To the left another exit. In front of Connor just a few meters away, there was a lamp.

“This is the Oedon Chapel, and we’re in Cathedral Ward!”

Connor didn’t know how he kept his composure, but he perfectly could let his legs collapsed of pure relief. He had reached the cathedral; the Healing Church should be near this place and maybe some answers. The hunter looked at the red-haired man, “what’s your name?”

The man smiled and nodded as he was waiting for that question. “I’m Jerry! I was waiting for someone like you,” he stood up and with both arms pointed the structure. “This is a safe place, if you find someone hiding tell them about the chapel. The incense keeps away the beast.”

“Do you know where I can find the healing church?”

“Uh,” Jerry sat again. During one second his expression lost the happiness before, to show a mix of resignation and tiredness. “You came a little late. The Healing Church has closed about everyone, and I’m afraid those who keep loyal to them had become… hostiles. To say the least. But if you can reach the Grand Cathedral maybe you could find someone with his or her sanity in one piece.”

Good luck couldn’t last for good.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t forget to tell the citizen about this place.” Jerry seemed unease and squeezed his hands. “If you think they’re worthy of course. I don’t think Yharnam could last to see another hunting night.”

“Do you know something about it?”

“Is just a hunch. The screaming of women, the blood and beast had become normal now. But even those who are locked are having troubles too.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Connor walked to the lamp and turned it on, the little white fog came, and the little ones appear from it; he left the suitcase next to them and decided to look around before coming back to the Hunter’s Dream. He’d have to come back to Central Yharnam one more time later.

The door at his right was closed from the other side. The exit to his left connected to stairways going down into the mysterious cathedral.

Connor decided to go through the one in front of him and walked until he was in the middle of what looks like a small square surrounded by buildings and more stairways, the moon was barely visible but what Connor took in more consideration was the tombs around him and the small, abandoned cradles. There were cradles in Central Yharnam too, some of them broken, others withered; he hadn’t thought about it until that moment. He couldn’t ignore it anymore.

The hunter didn’t know if he’d like the answer. A hunch, a hard feeling to swallow told him that whatever was the reason behind those cradles around that bloody hell hole, it’d be horrible. A new nightmare to face.

_I had enough_.

For today —if it ever existed— he’d had enough.

The hunter turned to the chapel and saw it. _Saw him_. The crow masked man who stood next to the entrance in complete silence, without doing any movement. He looked like the statues around. His arms crossed over his chest.

“Markus,” Connor whispered, his voice traveled with the wind.

The crow slightly moved, behind the mask those mismatched eyes fixed on the hunter and Connor thought behind the mask the man was smiling in secrecy with him. As if they were sharing an unspeakable truth; Markus moved his right hand in front of his face showing his index finger. Connor imagined him saying _‘shh’_ and reminded quit, only listening and observing.

A man dressed in a long black coat came from the stairs up both have to their right. The hunter tilted his head as he considered how tall the man was, how pale his face was and the vacuous eyes he could see even with a hat shading the almost white face. It wasn’t human anymore, it advanced with a long cane in its left hand and a lamp that shone with purple light in his right hand.

With monotonous walked the creature approached them. It was still far from Connor when the create noticed his presence and with a deep, prolong voice he gestured to him with the cane; Connor didn’t react. It could have been a risky decision, still he decided to bet his luck to know more about the one who had shown him compassion.

The creature walked towards the hunter; Markus was faster. He drew a pair of warped swords that twinkle with the movement as he slashed the creature’s back with his right and then with both hands forming a perfect ‘x.’ The raven mantle waved with delicacy and elegance. It was like seeing real wings. The beast collapsed defeated and dead. Connor thought he should learn that bizarre swordsmanship as he was fascinated with the crow's speed and clean movements, totally different from his messy technique. If he could call it like that.

They shared a looked before Markus silently walked towards the way the creature had come as he kept both swords firmly between his hands. Connor thought the crow was smiled at him one last time before leaving, or maybe he just wished for it.

“Hey!” The hunter called. If the first time they met he didn’t have anything to say, now he wanted to know more about the crow. About the city and the world, Markus turned to face him, and the pointed hat made impossible to Connor knew or suppose his expression. “I… thanks. Uh, are you Markus? Daniel told me about you.”

Markus nodded, his body relaxed. “I’m glad to hear Daniel’s still alive.”

So, Connor’s first friend condition wasn’t a secret.

“Do you know what’s happening in this place?” Sure, he had to. Connor hadn’t forgotten the message to the estrange doll.

“I have an idea.” Before Connor could talk, Markus asked him for silent with the same gesture. “Do you know what happened with the cat, hunter?” This time, Connor was sure Markus was smiling for the tone of his voice, the amusement and the kindness echoing behind the mask; “but if you still want to know, find me first. Did you think I'd tell you everything I know easily? You’re a hunter after all.”

And hunter had to hunt.

“Wait!”

Markus left his path. No matter the times Connor tried to stop him with his voice the crow didn’t stop and soon, his silhouette disappeared to the hunter's sight.

The hunter entered the chapel with a new feeling, an excitement he hadn’t felt since he first arrived to Yharnam. Something that made him smile behind the mask; it was a different hunting now.

In front of the lamp the hunter swore he’d catch the elusive crow and discovered his secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is how The Blood Gem Workshop Tool looks, and these ones are Markus’ weapon the Blade of Mercy, aesthetically one of my favorites in this game. 
> 
> Have an excellent week, dear reader! And don’t forget, fear the old blood.

**Author's Note:**

> [1] There’s no vampires in Bloodborne, even with the god-looking creatures and the Lovecraft inspiration, vampires doesn’t exist here. People of Cainhurts were called like this due to their bloody thirsty, acts and believes. Use the term ‘vampire’ as an insult looked interesting for me. In following chapters I’ll let you know, good reader, more about them and the connection between Cainhurts and North, same with Simon and Josh relationship with the other factions you can find inside Bloodborne.
> 
> Big thanks to my lovely friends Hota and Majo, because they're always there to be my betas <3
> 
> Also here is how it looks the [Hunter attire](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a6/ee/33/a6ee3331af94a929b0d4788c4dc631af.jpg), [the Hunter of hunters attire](https://bloodborne.wiki.fextralife.com/file/Bloodborne/Eileen_The_Crow_Concept_Art_Large.jpg?v=1501761821459), [the Saw Cleaver](https://www.primagames.com/media/files/bloodborne%20best%20weapons%20saw%20cleaver.jpg/PRIMAP/resize/618x/quality/80) and [The chikage](http://leblogdewilly.fr/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/Chikage.png).
> 
> Thanks for reading and remember, _fear the old blood._


End file.
